


Tentacletober Fills

by andimeantittosting (Saylee)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Consentacles, M/M, Oviposition, Tentacles, Tentacletober, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-11-07 22:24:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20824784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saylee/pseuds/andimeantittosting
Summary: A collection of short fills, all involving tentacles in some way.





	1. 1) Tentacle cuddles & 25) In the bedroom

**Author's Note:**

> These are written for Tentacletober. Check out the [original prompt list.](https://lynne-monstr.tumblr.com/post/187578809624/its-official-tentacletober-is-here-31-days) I will be filling the prompts that inspire me, and may also combine prompts together, but will try to post on the days corresponding with the prompt numbers if I choose to fill them. Some of these fills will be smuttier than others, but all smut will be 100% consentacles.
> 
> Thanks to [MalMuses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalMuses/pseuds/MalMuses) for making sure I knew about this, encouraging me to participate, and beta-ing my prompt fills.
> 
> Chapter 2 now contains wonderful art from foxymoley!

Dazed, Dean floats in the afterglow, even after Castiel lowers him to the mattress and oh-so-carefully withdraws his tentacle, leaving Dean feeling wide open, and a fresh, slick trail on his thighs. Still hazy, Dean feels the mattress shift as Castiel’s weight leaves it, and he swallows the unexpected surge of disappointment. 

It’s fine, he tells himself. Who knows if cuddling is even a thing on Cas’s planet. And besides, Dean’s a manly man; he doesn’t need cuddles. Are they nice? Sure. There’s nothing better than being wrapped up in someone else, after the demands of passion have passed, feeling them warm and close, trading lazy kisses, or just snuggling together, listening to the beat of their heart. But does he need them?

Alright, so he’d kind of hoped Cas would be a cuddler.

He lays there, trying not to feel sorry for himself. He’s an absolute mess, covered in sweat and lube and spunk, and he really should get up to clean himself up, but he’s still too wrung out to move.

As he slowly comes back to himself, Dean feels something against his ankle, a slow, gliding caress. He opens his eyes and lifts his head to watch the very tip of an inky black tentacle run gently—affectionately—over the bone there. 

Dean blinks and follows the rest of the tentacle, which is stretched as far as it can go, to where Cas stands just inside the ensuite bathroom. As he takes in what he’s seeing, the sound of running water shuts off, and Cas crosses back across the room in that sinuous glide of his, holding a damp hand towel, which he uses to wipe the mess from Dean’s stomach and thighs.

“I couldn’t find a washcloth,” Cas says, his voice apologetic, and Dean feels such an absurd swell of affection for him that he’s sure his eyes must resemble actual hearts.

Cas finishes cleaning Dean, and frowns critically at the towel. “I should go rinse this out.”

Dean plucks the towel from Cas’s hand and tosses it, unseeing, to the corner of the room. “It can wait. Come back to bed.”

Miraculously, Cas obeys, and Dean doesn’t even need to ask before he’s being wrapped in a pair of strong arms, and many, many strong tentacles.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Cas says against his lips. “I’m a bit of a cuddler.”


	2. 2) Under the sea & 5) First time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter now has gorgeous art from the wonderful [foxymoley](https://foxymoley.tumblr.com/post/190087979483/art-for-the-wonderful-andimeantittosting-they).

There’s a lagoon off the bay, the entrance mostly hidden by a line of low-growing palms. The peaceful cove is surrounded by lush greenery, and a white sand beach slopes gently down to the shore. By day, the turquoise waters of the lagoon are dappled gold from the sun. By night, they become a velvety mirror, reflecting the silver of the moon and stars.

Only two kinds of people visit the lagoon at night: tourists who don’t know what happens in the lagoon, and locals who absolutely do. The tourists go away with the shock of a lifetime and an unbelievable story to tell. The locals get what they came there for.

Castiel knows exactly what happens in the lagoon. His little house with the big picture window sits on a cliff, overlooking the crystal surface. He’s watched the writhing of slippery flesh and listened to the chorus of ecstatic moans. He’s wished it was him out in the moonlit waters, pleasured in every way imaginable.

Tonight, he’s determined, he will be.

He waits until the moon is high, anticipation singing under his skin. When he finally deems the hour right, he sets aside his book, carefully marking his place, and lets himself out of his door, locking it behind him. The moon is full tonight, painting the steep rock steps with splashes of bright white, as he makes his way down them to the soft sand of the beach.

There are no other humans on the beach tonight, but he can make out a shape in the water—a head, a strong set of shoulders, and something dark swirling under the gently lapping waves. He hopes the creature will like him.

On the sand, he strips. He toes his shoes off first and wiggles his bare feet in the sand. His shirt is next; he opens it button by button, slides it off his shoulders, and folds it into a square, a neat flag of white cotton. His hands go to the buckle of his belt, and he looks up. 

The creature is closer now, its attention trained on him. Silhouetted as it is against the bright orb of the moon, Castiel can’t make out its expression, but he would like to think it is watching him avidly. Excitement tingles up his spine, sets his blood pumping. He’s really going to do this. His cock twitches, starting to fill.

He unhooks his belt, draws it through the loops one by one with a faint hissing sound. The creature swims closer. He sets the belt aside on top of his shirt, and brings trembling fingers to the button of his fly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. 

The button pops free of its hole and he slides the zipper down, his heart beating faster as each inch of metal teeth gives way. At last, he lowers his jeans, cock springing free. He’d opted not to wear underwear, knowing that by this point his patience would not hold out much longer.

Still, he forces himself to fold the jeans, setting them on top of his other clothing. He straightens up, feeling both self-conscious and strangely… not.

The creature is still watching. Raising his chin, Castiel walks deliberately towards the water, his hard cock bobbing proudly before him.

“Howdy,” says the creature when Castiel’s toes get to the edge of the surf. A gentle wave sends warm water rushing over his feet. The creature’s voice is like sun-warmed river rocks, though Castiel knows this is a creature of the ocean. The incongruous greeting is almost enough to have him backing down a step, but he’s come this far. He steps purposefully further into the water. 

He is close enough now that he can make out the creature’s grin. It’s bright and charming and just a little wicked. As Castiel wades further in, until the water laps against his waist, he feels something brush against his ankle, something long and slick and prehensile. He shivers and the creature winks.

“You know what to expect?” it—he—asks.

Castiel nods dumbly, then finds his voice. “Yes, I know.”

That delicious grin widens. “I thought you might. I’ve seen you watching from that big picture window of yours. When I saw it was you coming down that cliff tonight, I made sure everybody knew you were mine. Uh, if I’m what you wanted, that is. If you’d prefer, I know Meg would love to get you in her clutches.”

Castiel takes his time examining the creature. The head and torso resemble those of a human man, though there are subtle lines on the neck that he expects become gills underwater. Moreover, he is undeniably beautiful. Castiel can’t make out the shade of his short hair under the moonlight, or the colour of those spectacular eyes, but he can make out long lashes and full lips and a sprinkling of freckles that continue down over a pair of strong shoulders and a chest he wants to put his hands all over. Castiel swallows.

“No, uh, you’re good. I would like to… uh, with you…”

The creature chuckles, a low warm sound. “That’s good, because I would like to, _ uh, _with you, too. The name’s Dean, by the way.”

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says, then feels ridiculous. There’s no reason to be so formal, not what with what’s about to happen. “I’m Castiel.”

Dean lets himself lean back further in the water. “Well, hey there, Cas. Nice to meetcha. Why don’t you come a little further into the lake?”

Something comes to wrap itself loosely around Castiel’s waist, tugging him forward. A tentacle, thick and slick and muscular. In the dark of the night, it looks inky black, but Castiel has caught occasional glimpses in the daytime, and knows that in reality Dean’s tentacles must be a deep, dark green.

He lets himself be guided forward, until the water laps just below his tight brown nipples. It’s warm, like a bath, retaining the lingering heat of the day. As he moves, more tentacles swirl around him, occasionally brushing against his skin in a tease that must be intentional. He shudders as one traces deliberately down the cleft of his ass, and his cock jumps, releasing a spurt of precome into the waters of the lagoon.

Dean chuckles again, much closer now, close enough that Castiel could kiss him if he dared. Is that allowed? His breath catches in his chest at the thought.

Castiel doesn’t get the chance to ask, because before he can, Dean’s hands are on his face, his lips pressed to his lips, his tongue in his mouth, and Dean is swallowing Castiel’s moan as their bodies mold together, Castiel’s hardness pressing tantalizingly against the slippery flesh where Dean’s tentacles meet his waist.

Dean kisses him until he’s dizzy, until Castiel is rutting mindlessly against him, and then he kisses him some more. He kisses him while tentacles twine around his body, around his limbs, holding him fast. His kisses him until Castiel is more aroused than he has ever been. 

And then he pulls back, licks his lips, looks Castiel up and down. “You ready for this?”

It’s all Castiel can do to nod frantically and rasp out, “Yes.”

Dean’s eyes darken in arousal, and then the sturdy tentacle that has wrapped around Castiel’s waist is lifting him up into the air, as other tentacles spread his legs and bind his arms behind his back. A tentacle traces his cleft again, teases at the soft skin of his inner thighs, nudges at his balls.

Glimmering in the moonlight, another bead of precome wells up at the tip of Cas’s straining cock. Castiel watches, mesmerized, as it falls, dripping towards the waters of the lagoon below. Before it can hit the surface, sending out an ever-expanding ripple, Dean moves beneath it, opens his mouth, catches it on his tongue with a moan that Castiel echoes longingly.

Their eyes meet and catch. Dean’s mouth is parted in a way that speaks of want, and Castiel suddenly longs to kiss him again. He watches the swell and fall of Dean’s chest as he breathes, knows his own chest must be heaving as the ticklish touches of Dean’s tentacles drive his anticipation to a fever pitch.

The tentacle is back at his cleft now, swirling questioningly over his hole, and then Castiel’s mouth drops open on a heartfelt groan as finally, _ finally, _it pushes inside.

It burns, but not really, the way surprisingly slick, the tentacles evidently producing all the lubrication they need. The tentacle wriggles and writhes, and stretches him full, full, _ full— _ presses in, in, _ in, _further than Castiel has ever been filled, and he loves it. The tentacle begins to thrust, slow, deep motions that seem to stretch him wider with each movement, and Castiel moans helplessly, while the very tip of another tentacle stretches up from the water to trace the shape of his open lips.

_ Oh, please, please. _Castiel wants nothing more than to draw it into his mouth, to taste it on his tongue, to feel that stretch and fullness between his lips, as delicious as where the tentacle is buried in his ass. But before he can beg for just that, a sucker catches on his prostate, and the unexpected sensation is enough to have him coming with a startled shout, convulsing in the cradle of Dean’s limbs. He manages to keep his eyes open, the better to watch Dean once again open his mouth, this time to catch Cas’s release on his tongue, some of it catching on his chin and cheeks, sliding down the freckled skin. The sight alone is enough to wreck Castiel, and he shudders in Dean’s grasp.

Dean’s thrusts slow as Castiel goes limp in his grip, but he doesn’t withdraw. After a few minutes to let Castiel catch his breath, he asks, “Still good? Want to keep going?”

Castiel’s heartfelt nod and groan is all the answer he needs. Dean picks up the pace of his thrusts, and Castiel eagerly rocks his hips back into it as best he can. This time, Dean rewards him by slipping the tentacle between his lips, pushing in until Castiel’s jaw aches in the sweetest way. Dean tastes like the ocean. 

Castiel sucks happily, running his tongue over the salty flesh in his mouth. He’s caught between overwhelming sensations at both ends, made more intense as other limbs crawl over his skin, tease at his nipples, his perineum, his cock. His every nerve is alight, and when the tip of another tentacle begins to play at his rim, he comes again, noises muffled by the thick tentacle pressing against the roof of his mouth.

Castiel barely has time to register his surprise at his body’s stamina before the new tentacle begins to press, wriggling in beside the first, stretching Castiel wider than he’s ever been before, wider than he ever thought he could endure, and yet there’s no pain, only delicious pleasure sparking it’s way up his spine, setting him on fire from the inside out. 

He pulls his head back, dislodging the tentacle in his mouth in order to gasp for air, and the tip of it, slick with saliva and its own cloudy lubrication, caresses his cheek, leaving a slippery trail, even as he leans his head further into its embrace.

“Dean,” he whimpers, his eyes seeking out those of this miraculous creature who has him in his grasp, who is playing his body like a priceless violin. Their gazes catch and hold. Dean’s own eyes are wide, his mouth open around the sharp, aroused breaths he is drawing in. 

“Goddamn, Cas,” he pants. “Look at you, taking me so good. You’re so gorgeous like this, so much more gorgeous than I dreamed. You’re doing so good sweetheart. You’re so good. Do you like this? Is this what you wanted?”

Castiel moans long and loud, and Dean answers with a noise of his own. “So good, sweetheart. Take me in your mouth again?” The tip of his tentacle comes to rest on Castiel’s swollen bottom lip like a question, so Castiel darts his tongue out, inviting him in. Dean accepts with a groan.

After that, time seems to melt away, everything dissolving in a heady jumble of limbs and sensations and sounds, until the stars feel like they’re spinning above them, their lights dancing on the water below. Dean takes Castiel apart and puts him together again, thrusting, stretching him, filling him, loving him, until everything bursts apart like a supernova, Castiel shaking apart through yet another orgasm, this one somehow even more intense than the others. 

As he clenches around Dean, helpless noises spilling out around the tentacle filling his mouth, Dean makes a helpless noise of his own, and then thick, slick white heat is flooding Castiel’s ass and mouth, more coating his skin where Dean’s limbs hold him and tease him, painting him in sticky fluid. 

His throat works overtime to swallow Dean’s load, but some still slips out to coat his lips and chin, and Dean carefully withdraws the tentacle from his mouth to allow Cas to breathe.

As both of their orgasms fade, leaving Castiel feeling both limp and euphoric, Dean lowers Castiel down towards the water, and removes his tentacles from his ass. He removes one at a time, but he still draws a hiss from Castiel’s lips, until his lowers him the rest of the way into the water, now deliciously cool and soothing against his skin. 

Humanesque hands take hold of him now, as Dean’s tentacles unwind themselves from Castiel’s body, and Dean sluices water over Castiel’s skin, cleaning him of Dean’s copious release. When Castiel gains enough control of his limbs to do more than just cling to Dean’s neck, he scoops up water in both hands and ducks his head toward it, cleaning his face. 

When he looks back up, water still dripping from his face and the tips of his hair, it’s to find Dean looking at him with a smile in his eyes.

“So,” Dean asks, “was it everything you hoped for?”

Castiel gives an incredulous little laugh. “And more. Could I do it again, sometime?”

Something cautious overtakes Dean’s face. “Of course, man. You know the drill. You can come down here any night.”

Castiel ducks his head. “Oh, ah. I mean, could I do it again with you?”

When he raises his head, Dean’s smile is back, brighter than ever. “Dude, yes. All you have to do is ask for me, and I’ll come. And then,” he adds, with a cheesy wink. “So will you.”

They laugh together, and when they stop, Dean says, more seriously, “There are so many things I’d like to do with you. And, uh, I’d like to get to know you, too, if you’re into that.”

Castiel’s smile is breathless. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Dean says, moving backwards now, and seeming to trip over his many limbs. “Ah, good. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you, Cas. And maybe next time, I’ll bring a charm so you can come underwater with me. But, I’ll see you.” And with that, with an embarrassed little wave, and what Cas can only assume is a blush in the moonlight, he disappears under the water.

Exhausted, but immensely pleased with himself, Castiel starts the walk back to shore, where he will gather his clothes, climb the rock steps still naked, and collapse, still damp from the lagoon, into his bed to dream of many limbs and laughing eyes.


	3. 3) Injured tentacles & 4) Tentacles save the day

“Quit fighting me, you big baby. I need to get this cleaned.” Dean made several futile attempts to grab at the slippery, flailing limb. Finally, he managed to get a hand around it, and before Castiel could shake him off again, he swung himself up and over, straddling the thick part of the tentacle, above the wound. Immediately, several other tentacles joined the fray, plucking at Dean’s clothing and arms, trying to dislodge him, while the injured one attempted to buck him off.

“Y’know,” Dean remarked casually. “This could be fun in different circumstances.”

He couldn’t see his alien crewmate’s face to observe the eyeroll that undoubtedly followed, but he was rewarded by a little growl that should not have been as  _ adorable  _ as it was.

Ignoring the multiple limbs trying to fight him, Dean got his hand around the bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and managed to pour it on the wound, where it hissed and foamed. 

Castiel flinched violently. “ _ Dean…” _

“I know it stings.” Dean petted gently at the uninjured flesh above the wound. “But you’ve got to let me take care of it. You don’t want to get that infected. Anyway, s’what you get for jumping in front of a blaster for me. You’re not invincible, you know.”

“I know,” Cas said, sulk clear in his voice, and Dean couldn’t help an eyeroll of his own, even if it was accompanied by a hidden half smile. Shaking his head, he picked up a clean, dry cloth, and carefully dried the cut.

“If I stop holding you down, will you quit fighting me while I bandage this?”

Cas heaved a loud sigh, and Dean smirked at the drama of it all. Nice to know humans didn’t have that market cornered. “Very well. I will cooperate.”

Satisfied, Dean dismounted from the thick limb, and reached for the roll of gauze bandages. “C’mon then. Give it here.”

Tentatively, Cas lifted the injured tentacle into Dean’s lap, with only a small flinch as it settled against his thighs. Dean risked a glance at his face, seeing his expression both long-suffering and somehow, secretly, fond.

“You know,” Dean remarked, turning his attention back to his work, as he began to wrap the bandage around the limb. “I wasn’t kidding about having some fun. Maybe once you’re healed up, you and I could…”

He expected to be dismissed. He did not expect another tentacle to wrap itself around his wrist, tugging until he was looking Cas full in the face again. 

“Yes,” Castiel said, vehement.

And just like that, this mission was looking up.


	4. 7) “How many of those are there?”

"Uh, just how many of those are there?"

In retrospect, Dean probably should have asked that before they'd started, but at the time, he'd been focused on other things. Namely, the fact that Cas had casually mentioned that his true form had tentacles, and that he was willing to use them for Dean's sexual benefit.

Naturally, Dean–who up until that point had been content to spend the day lazily making out in bed with his angel–had been all over that, like an apple pie. After all, that kind of offer didn't come every day. But, he acknowledges, as yet another tentacle joins those already exploring every inch of his body, he probably should have got some clarification on the specifics.

When Cas had said he had tentacles, Dean had pictured maybe eight. It seemed like the standard number. But there are four tentacles wrapped around both wrists and ankles, holding his limbs out in a starfish position, and another wrapped around his cock. There are two tentacles, one playing with each of his (perky, very perky) nipples, tentacles teasing his sensitive inner thighs, playing with his balls, wrapped in his hair to hold his head back. Two tentacles twine together into one thicker one and are buried deep in his ass, stuffing him fuller than he’s ever been, and as Dean’s mouth drops open on a blissed-out moan, one more shoves it’s way into his mouth, stretching his lips red and obscene. Countless more crawl over his skin, raising goosebumps of sheer sensation as they go.

Cas’s voice is amused, but breathless—and how that’s possible when he’s in his trueform, which doesn’t need to breathe, Dean’s in no state to question—as he answers, “I can have as many of these tendrils as I wish for, as many as I need to bring you the most pleasure. Are you feeling pleasure, Dean?”

Dean manages a garbled moan of assent around the limb filling his mouth, writhing happily, helplessly in the hold of his angelic boyfriend’s infinite, glowing limbs.

A grace tendril caresses Dean’s cheek. “So good, Dean,” Castiel rasps, “so perfect.” And then Dean is crying out around the tentacle filling his mouth, arching back in Castiel’s hold and coming, and coming, and coming. It goes on for what feels like forever, stars seeming to wheel above him, as Castiel wrings every last drop of ecstasy from his body. At some point, he blacks out.

When he comes to, he still feels loose and floaty, but the tentacles are gone. Instead, he is cradled in a pair of familiar, human-seeming arms, Castiel blinking familiar, human-seeming blue eyes down at him from his familiar, human-seeming face.

“Are you with me, Dean?” Cas asks, concern in his gravelly voice.

Dean hums in contentment, and Cas runs a hand—five human-seeming fingers—through Dean’s hair.

“Good,” Cas says. “I love you, too.”   



	5. 9) Surprise tentacles

It happens sometime while Dean’s asleep. When he’d gone to bed, tired but satisfied after successfully shutting down some witchy Cthulu cult, he’d had the normal complement of limbs, and the pride of a job well done. Sure, there’d been a dodgy moment when it had seemed like one of the witches had hit him with some kind of spell, but when nothing had happened, he’d assumed that he’d got off scott free. By the time he and Sam had touched base after the hunt, he’d all but forgotten about it.

He certainly hadn’t thought to mention it to Sam. There was no sense in worrying his brother, and he really didn’t want Sam getting Cas involved. Especially not over nothing.

As it turns out, it wasn’t nothing.

His first sign that something is off comes when he wakes late in the morning after a well-earned leisurely sleep. He yawns wide, feeling the satisfying crack in his jaw, then stretches his arms up above his head, arches his back—and then goes to stretch out his legs and curl his toes.

His legs feel wrong.

It’s an absurd thought, but true. It’s like there’s no bones in them. 

Frowning to himself, Dean tries to wiggle his toes, and oh boy, that is not what his toes should feel like. 

With trepidation now, Dean looks to where his legs are covered by his sheet, and oh, no, no, no, that  _ is not  _ what his legs are supposed to look like. They should be two long lines beneath the covers, not whatever strange, lumpy, writhing mass is going on there right now.

He hopes it’s not snakes. It had better not be snakes.

Steeling himself, he grits his teeth and grips the sheet in both hands, and rips it off in one smooth movement. And then, he stares.

He stares at the thick, black tentacles that have seemingly replaced his legs. 

And then, he shouts. “Sammy!”

***

“I’m calling Cas,” is Sam’s verdict.

“No!” Dean protests, too quickly. He doesn’t want Cas seeing him like this, not after the awkward not-kiss that last time he’d seen him. That’s one source of mortification too many.

Sam’s bitchface intensifies. “We need to deal with this. We have no idea what other symptoms might manifest. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you’d been hit.”

This is the third time Dean’s heard this lecture in the last twenty minutes, so he waves Sam off. “Yada, yada, yada, should have told you, I know. Believe me, I want this dealt with as much as you do. More, even. I have no idea how to even walk like this, and there are no nubile anime chicks who are into tentacles around. But do  _ not _ call Cas. Your lectures are bad enough.”

“Gross, Dean,” Sam says. He sighs and rubs his forehead. “Fine, no Cas. I’ll get Rowena on the phone.”

Dean shoots upright in bed. “ _ No.  _ No Rowena.” If facing Cas would be humiliating, he doesn’t even want to think about the glee Rowena would surely approach this with. He huffs a long breath, and rubs a hand over his mouth. “No Rowena,” he repeats. “Call Cas.”

***

Cas’s face is grave as he examines Dean’s new limbs. He makes a noise under his breath, then looks up to catch Dean’s eye. Without turning his head, he asks, “Sam? Could you please give us some privacy?”

Dean watches worry twist his brother’s face, but Sam swallows hard, and steps towards the door. “Uh, sure, Cas. Should I wait outside, or—?”

“No.” Cas’s answer is decisive, so Sam frowns again and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

“So,” Dean gulps. He’s not sure he wants to know, if it’s so bad that Cas wants to break it to him in private, but he needs to know. “Gimme the news, doctor. How bad is it?”

“Oh,” Castiel says, sounding unbothered. “It’s fine. It will wear off in twenty-four hours.”

“Huh,” Dean says.

“Yes,” says Cas.

“So, the privacy…?” Dean let’s himself trail off, and for the first time, Castiel looks awkward.

“Oh,” he says, “that. I thought that maybe, after the kiss last time, you might want to...do it again?”

“Oh,” says Dean, a totally new emotion rushing over him. “Yeah, I—”

“And,” Cas rushes on, before Dean can say more. “Given your taste in pornography, I thought you might want to...make use of the tentacles while they last.”

“Oh,” says Dean. “ _ Hell, yeah.” _


	6. 11) Tentacle porn, 31) “I can explain” & 23) “Don’t stop”

“Dean?”

Before Dean could fumble for the remote to turn the TV off, his boyfriend had crossed the scant feet from the doorway to the living room—without taking his shoes off first; geeze, had Dean taught him nothing?—and was taking in the incriminating scene with wide eyes.

“Um,” said Dean. “I can explain?”

He could not explain. There were really only so many reasons why a guy could have his pants down, a fist around his cock, and two fingers buried in his ass, all while a many-tentacled alien creature ravished a moaning, bouncy-titted beauty on screen. In his defense, he’d thought Cas was at work.

“Why aren’t you at work?” he demanded. When in trouble, deflect, deflect, deflect.

On-screen, a tentacle worked its way into the princess’s perfect, O-shaped mouth. Despite his predicament, Dean couldn’t help but squeeze himself and bite back a groan. He was fucked. And not in the fun way the girl in the video was.

No, Dean was fucked, because now his perfect boyfriend knew what an utter perv he was. They’d only moved in together two weeks ago, and already Dean had gone and ruined it.

“Uh…” Cas said, in response to the question, his wide blue eyes—eyes Dean loves, dammit—moving back and forth between the screen and Dean’s sprawled form. He blinks as if coming back to himself. “My shift was cancelled.” He adds, vaguely, “...flood…” before trailing off, his eyes fixed once more on Dean, and the tip of his— _ perfect _ —pink tongue darting out to lick his lips.

Flushing, Dean realizes his fingers are still buried inside himself, and goes to pull them out. Cas makes a strangled noise.

“Don’t stop,” he orders, voice breathless and somehow even rougher than it’s usual whiskey over gravel rasp. “Just...wait here.”

He disappears into the bedroom, leaving Dean blinking after him. The sounds of Cas rummaging through something are swiftly drowned out, though, by a moan from the TV as a second tentacle joins a first in ravaging the princess’s tight hole—and, well, Cas  _ did  _ tell Dean to keep going. He twists his hand over the head of his cock and thrusts his fingers deeper into his ass, panting as he gets a good rhythm going again.

This time, when he’s interrupted by the sound of his name, it’s uttered in a deep, guttural groan. Dean lifts his head to see Cas standing there, dark jeans tented obscenely, hair in disarray, and clenched in his hand, so tightly his knuckles are going white—is that?

It is. Cas is staring fixedly at Dean, his hand clutched tightly around a large, pastel purple and pink dildo—one shaped distinctly like a tentacle with large suckers molded on the underside.

“Holy shit, Cas,” Dean says—pants, really. “You’d better get that thing in me, like, yesterday.” Anything else he was going to say is swallowed by Cas diving for his mouth, and Cas does indeed get the toy in Dean’s ass, and his dick in Dean’s mouth, and a good time is had by all.

The video earns pride of place in their porn collection.    



	7. 12) “Get those things away from me” & 13) In the kitchen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation from Chapter 5 (Prompt 9) Surprise Tentacles.

Dean hums as he glides around the kitchen, gathering snacks and a bottle of water to take back to his room. He opens the fridge and snags a metal canister. There’s still a number of hours left until this spell wears off, and until then, the things he wants to fill the time with require sustenance.

Sam sits at the kitchen table, watching him with a raised eyebrow, his expression poised on the brink of becoming a bitchface if Dean just hits the right button. He snakes out one of his tentacles and grabs the bag of chips that was sitting in front of Sam, and, yep, there it goes.

It’s not like Sam was even eating the chips, the damn health nut.

“Get those things away from me.” Sam scowls prissily. Having been filled in on the benign nature of the spell and the fact that it will wear off on its own, he evidently no longer feels any need to be concerned about Dean. “You don’t know where they’ve been!”

“Inside Cas, mostly,” Dean answers with a smug grin, and gets the satisfaction of being chased down the hallway by his brother’s disgusted screech.

“I got snacks,” he announces, pushing open his door with a spare tentacle, and depositing his haul on the foot of the bed. 

Cas, lounging on Dean’s pillow, gloriously naked and—for now—clean of the evidence of the copious sex they’ve been having, lifts his own judgemental eyebrow at Dean. “What did you do to your brother?”

“Nothing!” Dean throws his hands, and several tentacles, up defensively. “It’s not my fault if Sam can’t handle hearing about what goes on between an angel and a man with many, many tentacle dicks. Our love is beautiful,” he adds dramatically, without thinking. He freezes, staring at Cas, wide-eyed. “Um.”

Cas smiles up at him beatifically. “Yes, it is. Now hurry up and eat your snack, so we can get back to doing things that would horrify your brother.”

“I can do you one better.” Dean grabs the canister of whipped cream he’d snagged from the fridge from the foot of the bed and holds it up for Cas’s inspection. “How about  _ you  _ be my snack?”

As it turns out, Cas is enthusiastically on board with that plan, as he is for just about everything else Dean suggests while the spell lasts. It’s only many, many hours later that they lie together, tangled and sweaty and sticky, and possessing the usual number of limbs, and Dean lifts his head from where it’s pillowed against Cas’s chest. “So, do you think we’d be able to replicate that spell sometime?”   



	8. 15) Oviposition & 20) Established tentacle relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of the 'verse from chapter 2. Thanks to EllenOfOz for betaing this chapter!

Dean pauses with a tentacle wrapped around each of Castiel’s ankles, his human lover spread naked and open before him. “You sure about this, Cas?”

They are in the shallow waters of a tiny, hidden grotto they had discovered together near the beginning of their courtship. In the dappled sun and shadows, Dean’s eyes are a brilliant green, and the freckles on his shoulders beg to be kissed.

“I’m sure,” Castiel answers, a rough edge to his voice. It’s sweet that Dean is checking in, but they’ve talked about this—they’ve been talking about it for months—and Castiel knows he wants this. He certainly hasn’t changed his mind in the five minutes since he’s stripped off his clothes.

“Sorry.” Dean’s tone is sheepish. He rubs the tip of a tentacle over his face in a way that should not be so endearing. “I just can’t quite believe this is really happening.”

Castiel knows what he means. When he’d ventured down to the lagoon that first night, hoping to experience the same erotic things he had witnessed through his window night after night, he never could have imagined that he’d end up here: in a loving relationship with the tentacle creature he had intended for a one night stand, and preparing to take the next step in their lives together. It _ is _overwhelming. But…

“Dean,” he says, drawing him into a kiss. “I trust you. I want this. I want you to breed me full.”

His words have the desired effect. Dean’s eyes practically glaze over, and he lets out a low sound of longing. Castiel spreads his legs invitingly in the shallow water and watches Dean’s eyes focus unerringly on his tight pink hole.

Castiel’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Please, Dean,” he begs, knowing exactly what his voice does to Dean. He tips his head back and moans as he feels the slick tip of a tentacle begin to trace its way up his thigh. “Please. I need you inside me. I need you to fill me up.” Dean’s tentacle presses against his hole, and Castiel hitches him legs up even higher. “I need you to breed me.”

Dean pushes in, a satisfying stretch, and a feeling of fullness that never becomes less delicious, no matter how familiar. As he begins to thrust, a slow, tantalizing drag against Castiel’s insides, his other tentacles join in, sliding over Castiel’s skin, searching out all the spots Dean knows make him whimper and sigh and moan.

Rather than press a tentacle between Castiel’s lips, something they both love, Dean occupies his mouth in another way, kissing him deeply, sweetly, with all the love that’s grown between them. Their noises are muffled into each other’s mouths as Dean pulls Castiel closer, so they are pressed together chest to chest.

Castiel’s lips break away from Dean’s as the tentacle inside him wriggles just so against his prostate, his head tipping back on a gasp. Dean takes the opportunity to kiss his way up the column of his neck.

“Ready, sweetheart?” he asks, nipping lightly at Castiel’s earlobe. He is rewarded by an eager nod.

“Oh!” 

Dean keeps moving slowly in him, but suddenly Castiel can feel a swelling within his tentacle, pressed up against his sensitive, stretched rim. As Dean finds his mouth again, kissing him through it, the slightly gelatinous bulge moves up, stretching Cas winder and wider, until, with a pop, it is inside him. 

Another bulge follows, and another. Eggs. When Castiel had asked Dean how his kind reproduced, Dean had been shy about telling him, but finally Castiel had coaxed it out of him. Any member of Dean’s species could lay eggs and then fertilize them. All they needed was a willing host to carry the eggs and give birth when the time came.

“I want that,” Castiel had said.

Dean had looked at him in surprise.

“I want that,” Castiel had repeated, firmer. “I want a family with you, Dean. I want you to lay your eggs in me.”

Castiel loses track of time, of everything but the insistent press of Dean inside of him, the heavy stretch of the eggs filling him one by one, until his belly is round with them. 

“Dean,” he moans, overcome, spilling untouched between them. 

“Shhh,” Dean pets his hair with his human hands, holding him close with his tentacles, as he removes the one filling Castiel’s hole. Before he can do more than whimper at the sudden lack, a new tentacle is pressing in, making Castiel shudder as it slides along his oversensitive insides. Dean pumps into him once, twice, and then he too is shuddering, spilling thick, hot liquid into Castiel’s hole, so much that he doesn’t know how his body will hold it all. 

But the same magic that has created a safe womb for Dean’s eggs allows his body to stretch yet more. Castiel hums, dazed and floaty and so in love. If the tender look in Dean’s eyes as he slips out of Castiel and gathers him up to carry to shore is any indication, he feels the same way.

They cuddle together on the smooth, warm rocks that line the pool until Castiel comes back to himself. He stretches the kinks out of his limbs and smooths a hand over his round belly. It’s a strange sensation, but not an unwelcome one.

Dean presses a kiss to his neck. “I can’t believe my luck, getting to start a family with you.”


	9. 16) Tentacles in peril, 18) In space & 22) Tie up the tentacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to EllenOfOz for betaing this chapter! I like to think this takes place in the same universe as chapter 3.

It was oddly silent in the prison block, only the faint vibration of the ship’s distant engines to fill the emptiness. Castiel had no way of knowing if that was because he was the only prisoner, or if the bright white material that made up the walls and floors simply absorbed all the noise from within the cells. Certainly, when he’d woken to find himself captured and bound, hands locked above his head, and each tentacle contained in its own manacle, he’d attempted to scream the place down, to no avail.

All his attempts to free himself had met with similar disappointment. He had tried to wriggle first one, then another tentacle free, only to discover that movement only made the manacles tighten, digging into his sensitive flesh with tiny, stinging barbs. Eventually he’d fallen still and silent. 

Not giving in,  _ strategizing. _

He hadn’t seen his captors, but he had a good idea who they were. It seemed his kind had made vast technological progress since he had abandoned his post to side with humankind. And the Seraphim didn’t take well to traitors.

He wondered how long it would be before he was taken to Naomi. He wondered if he could fight them off when they came.

Something tugged at his consciousness. It took a moment, but soon he realized what it was—sound filtering into the prison, the first sound he’d heard since he’d awoken.

If he ever got out of here, Dean would never let him hear the end of it, captured on a routine asteroid scouting trip.

Slowly, the sounds became clearer, as if the source of the disturbance was headed towards the prison. Soon it resolved itself into shouts and the noise of blaster fire, and then, miraculously, the whoosh of his cell door sliding open.

“Well, hey there.” Dean Winchester stood in the doorway, blaster in hand and a cocky smile written across his face. Beyond his feet, Castiel could make out the limp bodies of other Seraphim. “Care for a rescue?”

And even though Dean would never let him live it down, Castiel did.


	10. 17) Tentacle gags & 19) Protective tentacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A super short fill this time. I like to think this takes place in the same universe as chapters 3 & 9. In fact, I think this is the incident that precedes Cas's injury in chapter 3.

Dean opens his mouth to say something, and Castiel pushes him up against the wall, slapping one of his tentacles across his mouth, silencing him. Dean’s leaf-green eyes go wide, and Castiel can’t help but be drawn to the way Dean’s pink lips stretch around the temporary gag.

In the adjacent corridor, the sound of footprints approaches, growing louder until Dean’s less-sensitive human ears can pick them up as well.

Castiel raises an eyebrow. Dean nods. Castiel could withdraw his tentacles, but he doesn’t.

The two stare at each other, barely breathing, as they listen to the footsteps grow closer, then continue onwards, gradually fading, until even Castiel cannot hear them any longer.

Slowly, he peels his tentacle away from Dean’s mouth.

Moving with caution, they resume their path down the corridor, Dean massaging his jaw as they go. If they can just make it to the hangar…

Without warning, a door whooshes open just ahead of them, and suddenly the hall is flooded with blaster-wielding soldiers. One of them takes aim at Dean, and Castiel doesn’t even need to think—he dives in front of his human crewmate, tentacles raised to shield.


End file.
